


Crimson codes.

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Detective Dipper, Gen, Murder, One Shot, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 19:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12306507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Detective Dipper Pines works under his Great uncle Stanford. He comes across a particularly confusing case with symbols painted in blood at the crime scene.





	Crimson codes.

Lydia Jackson was found lying in a pool of her own blood, sprawled and naked in the middle of her living room floor. Her torso had been cut open, rib cage split apart to reveal glistening organs. The only thing missing were her vocal chords. A strange string of bloody symbols decorated a nearby wall. The young detective checked the women's limp wrist, and reluctantly closed her eyes. "No pulse,". Although that had been evident from the start. Jackson had been speakeasy singer in a local dodgy bar, it's likely there was alcohol being sold there illegally but there was never enough evidence to shut it down. Lydia had never had any know enemies so there was no known motive for murder, let alone something this brutal. 

Dipper sighed as he made his way down the steps, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly there was a click and bright flash, the brunette glared into the face of a camera. "Excuse me, I'm a reporter for the Gravity Falls Gossiper, is there anything you can tell us about the recent murder?" The brunette fought to stop the irritation show in his face,  _did these jokers never learn?!_ "S-sorry, it's confidential. I'm not authorised to share that information with you," He muttered. "B-But can you at least-" The weird troll man's pleads were cut off with the slam of a door as the detective motioned for the cab driver to go.

\- - - - - - - - 

The young man sat at his desk with a huff and slammed a pile of files on his desk. The lamp flickered to life as he adjusted his glasses and began leafing through the papers. It'd only been 48 hours but they could sure write a hell of a lot of reports for one case.

_Dear Sir,_

_I'd like to report that I have visited the scene of the crime on 22 Akley Street. The victim, Lydia Jackson, had been killed by having her throat slit. The killer is right handed as her throat was slit from left to right. There is no sign of a struggle so Jackson must've been caught by surprise._

_The killer must have some kind of medical knowledge as he had split the sternum to the navel perfectly. The killer then proceeded to tear open Jackson's torso before taking her vocal chords and leaving 20 symbols written in the victims blood._

_I hope this report was of some use to you,_ _Sincerly Detective Dipper Pines._

The front door opened and a gust of nighttime winter air rustled his papers. "Morning Dipper," came a curt voice from the hallway. His great uncle came in the brunette's office. "M-Morning?" Dipper yawned, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece. It's hands ticked softly, signalling 3am. Crap. Ford chuckled softly, "Well I'm going to bed, try get  _some_ sleep ok?" The young detective nodded mutely, shuffling the papers into order. Just as he was getting up to leave, a scrap of paper fell out of his waistcoat, on it were the strange symbols from the crime.  _It'll only take half an hour or so._ He thought to himself.

The clock read quarter to five when the brunette finally cracked the code. His dark ringed eyes widened as her read the message.

**I didn't like her singing.**


End file.
